


Victory

by genesius



Category: Fine Forecasts, Gomens Party Verse, Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Azmodeus has a Vulva, Azmodi, Blow Jobs, Canon Non-Binary Character, Dirty Talk, F/M, Genital Piercing, Nipple Piercings, No Refractory Period, Other, Overstimulation, Penis In Vagina Sex, Piercings, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, di sounds like davina, non-binary genitalia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-07
Updated: 2020-02-07
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:35:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22597165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/genesius/pseuds/genesius
Summary: Doeley made a bet with Azmodeus. Di would like to help.
Relationships: Azmodeus/Di Va
Kudos: 4





	Victory

"Cheshire?"

Azmodeus' only reply is a grunt. Di's mouth curls into a smirk.

"You're awfully quiet," she remarks, leaning forward to lean on her elbows, her silver eyes drifting down the other demon's form. "Have ya got your own tongue now?"

Azmodeus only glares. Di gives him a smug look, raising her joint back up to her lips, and inhales slowly, letting the smoke sit inside her lungs before blowing it teasingly in his direction. His eyes roll, then close, and he scrubs a hand down his face.

"Di… I'm assuming I've mentioned the, uh, bets," he says.

Di moves, sprawling herself once again into the colorful blanket that was draped over her sofa, her head on the arm closer to Azmodeus. "Y' mean the ones where you'd compete with Deer, yeah?"

An affirmative grunt.

"Why, did he finally come forward 'n make one on me?"

Azmodeus shoots up, incredulous. "How-"

Di snickers. "You really think I couldn't tell he'd been eyeing me?" she asks, taking another drag.

"Well, no-"

"Good." She blows the smoke into the air above her, and watches it dissipate until the only proof left is the visible rays of light shining down on the bright rug, casting the dark wood of the walls and floors in a warm light.

"So?" she asks after a few moments of silence, here eyes still staring at the rafters, a bit glazed over.

"Hm?"

"What're you gonna do?"

Azmodeus laughs, the sound of quiet, heavy feet on a dirt road. "Flirt?" he says. "Dunno what else I'd do."

Di's tongue flickers out and wets her bright red lips, humming. "Could just try me." One leg lifts up to drape over the back of the sofa. "I  _ am _ a little curious what a demon o' lust can do with a mouth like that," she muses, her voice softening with the fog of a daydream, her spare hand coming to rest on the inside of her thigh.

Azmodeus blinks. Not that Di could see him do so. "Wh- are you… sure?"

Di opens her eyes and looks over (upside-down) at the Tempter of Eden himself, raising (lowering?) an eyebrow. "I've never been this spread-eagle in my fuckin' life and you have the audacity to think I'm just pullin' your leg?"

Azmodeus shrugs, completely serious. "Just want to make sure."

Di turns so she can properly face Azmodeus. "So are you gonna come here or am I gonna hafta do all the work?"

The other demon scoffs, pushing himself up off the worn armchair he's been lounging in. "Y'know, usually it isn't this easy," he says, voice low. "What do you want?"

"Said your mouth, didn't I?" Di answers, dropping the remains of the joint into the ashtray on the coffee table.

"Anything else?"

She gives him a once-over, lingering on the tattoos that reveal themselves through his low-cut collar, that spill out from his sleeves, that peek out from beneath his shirt. She bites her lip. "Do me a favor n' surprise me."

Azmodeus' eyes darken with focus, and then with something a little deeper.

Di rises from the sofa and stands, just… looking at the other demon. "May I?" she asks, stepping forward, both hands hovering at his shoulders, but not touching, not yet.

Azmodeus nods, and Di's hands lower, only resting at his shoulders, for now. "Where do you want me?" he finds himself asking.

Di tuts. "My, my, you ask so many questions, kitt'n. I'd've said somethin' by now if I wanted you somewhere else, wouldn't I?" Her thumbs lightly stroke the skin where they sit.

Azmodeus chuckles lightly, and it sounds like a stream, trickling hundreds of feet underground. "Guess so."

Di's hands begin to move, her fingers deliberate and calculated and almost  _ painfully _ slow. Her fingers dance first across the soft dark fabric of Azmodeus' shirt, the featherlight touches barely noticeable but very decidedly there. They move on to his arms, and she lets her fingers trace each intricate line of ink as she reads their stories: a string of fate, cut by a life-changing decision; an angry flame, consuming him and yet controlled; the moon and her phases, ever-changing yet ever-present; a familiar snake at his left, a declaration of a deathless love. She watches as goosebumps form behind her touch.

Azmodeus takes a deep, quivering breath. Di looks up at him and finds his eyes darkened, watching her closely.

"Oh? Sensitive, are we?" Di teases, her fingertips brushing the hem of his shirt, not lifting, not yet. Azmodeus doesn't answer. She isn't looking for one.

Di's hands rise back up, her nails softly grazing trails up his torso as they go. They come to rest at the other's broad shoulders, and gently squeeze the flesh there. Azmodeus draws in another breath, and Di can't help the smirk that graces her face.

"How long d'you think you c'n stand here f'r me, kitt'n?" she asks, her hands now feeling his chest. Azmodeus closes his eyes, memories of blindfolds and teasing sensations and hours of waiting for divine contact flashing in his mind.

"A while," he replies. "Think my record's about two days."

"Mm." Di finds his nipples and, in lieu of a reply, begins gently playing with them through his shirt, coaxing little hitches of breath out of Azmodeus. His eyebrows furrow in concentration, and Di takes the opportunity to lightly tug the piercings at her fingers. And there,  _ there _ 's the little mewl of pleasure she's been looking for. 

"C'n I hear that again?" she asks, tugging again, the tiniest bit harder, and he makes that same precious, delicious noise. "Good, kitt'n, you're so good… I want to see more of you. D'you think you can do that f'r me? Show me?" she asks, and removes her hands from his body.

Azmodeus swallows. He lifts his dark shirt up and off his head, letting it fall unceremoniously to the floor.

Di's eyes sparkle. "Y're gorgeous, y'know that?" she hums, her hands returning to the expanse of his torso. Now she traces the name over his heart and the dagger at his core, counts the tally marks at his sides… and lingers over lines of unfettered power.

"May I?" she asks. Azmodeus nods, and she lets a fingertip touch the lines at his ribs. He gasps sharply - Di looks up, worried she's crossed a line. He nods again.

She continues tracing the lines. They're indented into his skin, and cold to the touch, but she can sense power radiating from them. It feels like static, like those lines could shock her at any moment, and simply chose not to.

"Edith?" Di asks. Azmodeus nods.

She makes a V with her index and middle fingers and softly rubs the staticky markings, keeping her eyes on Azmodeus. His eyes flutter closed, and his breathing deepens, like he's concentrating on something.

"Very sensitive," she thinks aloud. Azmodeus mewls again.

She bends down and lets her tongue lave at the twisted thorns at his neck, and draws another slow, shaking breath from his lips.

"You c'n touch me, kitt'n," Di murmurs against his neck, and Azmodeus' hands are immediately at her hips, pulling her against him.

"I meant on me, earlier," Azmodeus says with a husky vigor, one thick hand gently pushing Di's sweater up and brushing at a nipple, making her gasp. "What you wanted. You've never mentioned a preference."

"Y'know, kitt'n, you're talkin' an awful lot f'r someone who's meant to have his mouth on me," she quietly retorts, one hand moving up and lightly tugging the hair at the back of his head. He grits his teeth, trying (and failing) to stifle the noise that bubbles up past his throat. "Ain't this about me?"

"Yes, it is, which is why I'd appreciate it if you could tell me what you want me to  _ do, _ " Azmodeus grumbles, punctuating his last word by pressing his hand to her crotch. He can feel her erection through her sweatpants, and when he looks up at Di, her bottom lip is caught between her teeth.

"Are you not wearing anything?" he asks, grinding his hand down and grinning smugly at Di's gasp.

"That's not y'r business, now, is it?" Di counters, a bit more breathless than before.

"Oh, it will be if I have anything to do about it," Azmodeus says, and presses his thigh between Di's legs. This time, she can't stop the outright moan that leaves her lips.

"Bastard," she admonishes, her voice lingering on the "r" like the burn of a strong whiskey.

"Demon," he corrects her roughly, his fangs grazing her shoulder, his hand now groping her breast. "You still haven't told me what you want."

"Y're takin' too fuckin' long, kitty," she scolds him, and pushes off of him, falling back onto the sofa. "I wanna  _ see _ you."

Di blinks, and then they're both naked, and she's holding a shot of whiskey in her left hand. She spreads her legs and watches Azmodeus' eyes traverse her body and settle at her crotch.

Di has never made a binary effort. She's never seen a point in it. And so a small cock sits erect against her belly, and the lips of her vulva are leaking onto the blanket beneath her.

She downs the shot and gestures -  _ c'mere, kitt'n, I have a gift for you - _ and Azmodeus obeys.

Di's eyes harden. "Down, boy."

Di watches Azmodeus' eyes darken with arousal. He kneels between her legs and dips his head to flicker his tongue along her inner thighs, his eyes closing.

"So y'like being told what to do," she observes, chuckling. "Good t' know."

"What do you want?" he asks for a third time and looks up, pupils blown wide. Di runs a single hand through his hair (careful to avoid the barrettes) and guides his head until his mouth meets her, right where she wants it.

"Y'r mouth, kitt'n," she says, and he obediently licks one long stripe up from the bottom of her labia to the head of her cock, and she sighs and relaxes into the blanket beneath her.

Azmodeus takes her cock into his mouth and  _ sucks, _ and Di's mouth falls open, and she moans into the hazy silence around them. Her hips buck up deeper into his mouth, and he  _ growls. _

Di is so lost in the sensation of Azmodeus' voice on her cock that she almost -  _ almost  _ \- misses the sound of his fingers at his vulva.

"I c'n hear you touchin' y'rself. Does tastin' me turn you on that much? D'you like having my cock in y'r mouth that much, kitt'n? Do I taste that good?" she loosely hears herself saying, and thrusts again.

Azmodeus lifts off of Di's cock for a moment, chest heaving. He slows his own hand down - he'd been getting dangerously close - and pulls two fingers out of his dripping cunt, unable to suppress a whine.

He licks around her opening, using the hand slick with his own arousal to continue attending to her cock. When he finally dips his tongue into her folds, she cries out, and pushes herself against his tongue, chasing, chasing,  _ chasing - _

"I know you can do bett'r'n that. Fuck me with your tongue, yes that's it, just like that, kitt'n,  _ fuck... _ " she babbles, and she's so close, so, so close, "y're so good, y'r mouth is so good, shhhit,  _ ah _ -" and her walls are closing around his tongue, and her cock is pulsing, and she just needs a little more, just a  _ little more _ -

and Azmodeus' nose hits her clit, hidden just beneath her cock, and her eyes close, and her jaw drops, and she  _ comes. _

When she opens her eyes, she's greeted with the glorious sight of Azmodeus, his back leaning against the coffee table behind him, his beard coated and shining with her cum. He's fucking himself with his fingers, his head is thrown back in pleasure, and then it's his turn, and he groans  _ loudly _ , the sound of a dam bursting.

And they look at each other, and realize that they haven't finished. Azmodeus' hand is still slowly, gently playing with his swollen (and pierced, Di notices) clit, and Di is using the cum from her labia as lube for her cock, and neither of them are showing any signs of stopping.

Di watches Azmodeus' tongue wet his lips as he stares at her erection, and she finds herself chuckling lightly. "Your pussy looks like it could use a good fuckin', kitt'n," she says, still a little out of breath. 

"Does it?" Azmodeus purrs, considerably less out of breath, his eyes never straying from her still-hard dick. (He's not a lust demon for nothing.)

"Y'r mouth got fucked, why not your pretty cunt?" Di asks, and makes a come-hither motion with her finger. "You've gone 'nd fucked yourself all wet 'n ready, haven't you, Cheshire?"

Azmodeus climbs into Di's lap, and the folds of his vulva are covered in his arousal, and he grinds his clit against Di, coating Di's cock with his slick. "You saw me," Azmodeus murmurs through their breathing. 

He steadies himself with one hand on Di's shoulder, using the other to guide her cock to his entrance, and looks at Di, who nods, breathless. He breathes in, relaxes his body, and carefully bears down onto her. They both stay like that for a moment, just  _ feeling _ , Di feeling Azmodeus' wet heat surround her and leak onto her, Azmodeus feeling Di's cock twitching with pleasure inside him.

He, very gently, begins rocking his hips. It's slow, teasing, tantalizing. Di's hands find themselves gripping Azmodeus' hips, and she can feel more of those strange, cold, staticky lines underneath her fingers. She grips just a little harder, and Azmodeus growls, his head falling into her shoulder. 

The pacing he sets is almost excruciating, but Di can hear little mewls of want leaving Azmodeus' mouth, so she only presses her thumbs into the shapes on his hips as he fucks himself on her cock.

Soon enough, Azmodeus shifts backwards, and he circles his hips, making them both moan. Di's gaze lingers down his body, one fingertip drawing a line from his core, down past the golden stubs on his belly, and only stopping when her thumb can reach his clit.

When she touches the jewelry adorning him, he gasps, and grinds himself into her hand, finally,  _ finally _ riding her in earnest. 

"Y'look close, kitt'n," Di breathes, and Azmodeus looks down at her, his eyes pleading for something, something  _ more _ . "You wanna come, kitt'n? For me?"

There's a strangled desperation in his eyes as he speeds up, the slick sound of skin on skin filling the space between their soft moans. Di's eyes grow hooded, and she moves the hand he's grinding into  _ just _ so, until all at once two fingers are inside him, scissoring him open along with her cock, and Azmodeus cries out at the stretch.

"Di, I-" he pants. "I'm close."

"Oh, are you, now?"

Azmodeus moans and pushes himself deeper onto her, his legs trembling.

"Wait f'r me, will you, tiger? You've been so good, darlin', just a little more," Di says, and curls her fingers, and he's nearly there, so, so close -

And she pulls her fingers away, and he  _ whines, _ and grinds down as deep as he can take her, but it's not enough, it's not enough, it's  _ never _ enough.

Di stops his hips, and he's shaking now, his breathing ragged, and his eyes are pleading with her. He tries to move, but Di grips,  _ hard, _ and he understands, and stays still.

"You're such a pretty thing, Cheshire," Di whispers, one hand coming up to Azmodeus' face, her thumb dipping into his mouth. He obediently sucks on it, keeping eye contact with Di the entire time.

She leans up and presses their lips together. Azmodeus groans into the kiss. He still tastes like her, she realizes.

"Are you ready?" Di murmurs back, her wet thumb trailing down Azmodeus' torso. He makes a low noise somewhere between a moan and a plea. 

She rubs his clit and thrusts up into him, and he bounces back onto her once, twice, keening into her open mouth and convulsing, his entire body suddenly alight. He realizes, distantly, that he's coming. And, past the fog of ecstasy, he can feel Di coming, too, her cock twitching inside him, her warm arousal spilling beneath him and mixing in with his.

The haze dissipates slowly. Azmodeus gently lifts himself off of Di and collapses next to her, his head falling onto the backrest.

Time… passes. Not much, they think; the sun's still up, although it's coming in at a much more horizontal angle than before.

Azmodeus looks over and finds Di asleep. Of course.

He focuses for a moment. When he opens his eyes, a red nasturtium (victory, if he remembers correctly) is placed in the shot glass Di left on the coffee table. He blinks, and it's gone.

By the time he's miracled them both clean and clothed, there's a yellow hyacinth standing in a cream-colored ceramic vase on the table.

_ Jealousy, _ the flower says.

Azmodeus laughs.


End file.
